


Secret Admirers and Mysterious gifts

by CC_Writes_Stuff



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fluff, Love Letters, My Unit | Byleth Has Emotions, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Secret Admirer, Slow Burn, Valentine's Day Special, because what's valentines day without love letters and secret admirers?, byleth's in denial about her feelings, oh and kissing (eventually), so is claude, sorta - Freeform, sothis briefly returns from the void to yell at byleth about her feelings, this turned out a lot longer than i thought it would be, verdant wind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22669240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/CC_Writes_Stuff
Summary: When Byleth finds a package at her door with a dagger inside and what may or may not be a love letter, she's determined to find out who sent it to her (and why)
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 29
Kudos: 185





	1. A Dagger in the Dead of Night

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do valentine's day fluff for valentine's day, and honestly, what's valentines day without gift-giving and secret admirers?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious package arrives at Byleth's doorstep when she's asleep. Upon opening it, she starts a search to find out who gave it to her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I found someone I wanna annoy for the rest of my life"
> 
> How do you do love letters

_**✿ Great Tree Moon, 4/8, 1185 ✿** _

The first gift arrived on her doorstep in the dead of night.

When Byleth had gone to sleep the night before, her doorstep had been clear of any and all objects. But when she woke up in the morning and went out to do her rounds, she saw it.

A tiny box, longer in length than it was in width and height, with a golden bow tying it on the top and a card tucked underneath. For a moment, Byleth froze, wondering what the hell that was and how that got there. Was it some sort of trap? Or something else?

 _No, you’re just being paranoid,_ she could almost hear Sothis saying. _It’s just a box. What are you waiting for? Open it up already!_

Taking heed of mind-Sothis’ words, Byleth looked around, wondering if someone was nearby. But the dorms were empty, aside from her. So Byleth opened up her door and stepped inside her room and set the box on her desk, before lighting the candle at the end. The morning sun only gave so much light in her darkened room. Taking a seat in her chair, Byleth picked up the box, shook it. There was a slight rustling noise from inside, but she couldn’t tell for the life of her what it would be. Frowning, she stared at it for a moment, before carefully untying the ribbon and picking up the card.

It was a simple white card, with nothing more than her name on it. Frowning, Byleth grabbed the dagger at her hip, before cutting the card open. She set the knife on the desk, before pulling the letter out of the card and unfolding it and reading it over.

_Hey. I, uh... I have no idea how to start this letter to you, but... I just wanted to say thanks for all that you’ve done for us so far. Leading a war can’t be easy, but you make it look effortless. And you mean a lot to… well, everyone here. So I got you a sort of thank-you gift._

_Well, I actually got this before the assault on Garreg Mach five years ago, but then you disappeared and I’ve been trying to work up the courage to give it to you. Something beautiful and deadly, just like you. I hope you like it._

The letter ended there, and there was no name to go with it, either. An anonymous sender, Byleth assumed as she set the letter down. But who sent it to her, and why the secrecy?

Focusing her attention away from the letter, Byleth lifted the lid off the box. Inside, set amongst red velvet, was a dagger. Byleth paused, before reaching into the box and holding it up. The sheath was black, with a circle holding a small, polished rock on the top and a golden locket and chape. Unsheathing the dagger, Byleth set it down on the desk.

The dagger itself was as fancy as its sheath. The hilt was black, fading out into gold at the pommel, and the cross-guard was golden as well, curving into points as it ended. The blade was obsidian black, weaving side to side as it went to the tip of the blade in a wave-like shape. There were silver engravings on the side of the blade, too, in intricate designs that carved up and down.

Slowly, Byleth ran her hand on the blade, taking care to not cut herself with it. It was the perfect weight, too, not too heavy but too light either. The craftsmanship appeared to be of the highest quality, something that Byleth could appreciate. It was clean, showing that whoever got this for her clearly took good care of this. Did this anonymous sender hold onto this for five years?

Carefully, Byleth sheathed the dagger, setting it on the desk, rather unsure of what to think about this gift. As a mercenary, gifts had never been the highest priority on either her or her father’s list, both because they never really put much thought into birthdays and because money was often tight. If they could, Jeralt would treat her to dinner if they were in a town and had money, but that was about it.

In fact, she’d only ever really received two gifts from people. The first one was the dagger currently on her hip, and - as far as Byleth knew - the only gift her father had ever given to her. She’d been about ten when her father gave it to her, Jeralt’s way of saying Byleth could now join the mercenaries in missions instead of training and waiting for them to come home. Her first kill had been made with that dagger.

The other gift had been the bracelet that Claude and the rest of the Deer had given her five years ago, on her birthday. It had been dirty and wet when Byleth woke up, but after a good polishing, it was back to being the shiny color it used to be, and now sat permanently on her wrist. After all, the gesture, as small as it had been, from a group of people she hadn’t known that well, had made Byleth feel like she was actually doing something right. Now, it was one of the most treasured items she had.

Which begged the questions of who gave this dagger to her, why, and what she should do about it? After all, with the two gifts that she did have, she could at least thank the people who did this. But without a name, Byleth didn’t know who to thank, and why they even sent it to her in the first place. Was it one of the Deer who sent it to her? Clearly, this person had to be close to Byleth, and someone she probably knew as well. The only people in the monastery that she was close to were Claude and the other Deer.

But if it was one of the Deer, however, why would they hide it from her? Aside from possibly Marianne or Ignatz, all of them were up-front enough to give Byleth the gift themselves, instead of leaving it on her doorstep with nothing more than a note attached to it and no name on it. At first glance, the handwriting was unfamiliar, too, not the handwriting of any of the Deer. If there was anyone it would be close to, Byleth would have to guess Marianne, Ignatz, Claude, Lorenz, Mercedes, Linhardt, or Dorthea. Possibly Ferdinand, but that was a longshot.

A part of Byleth wanted to investigate this, never one to leaving secrets and mysterious - especially mysterious letters from… someone - to be left undiscovered. Perhaps that was what had drawn her to people like Claude and Lindhart and Lysithea. But she still had stuff to do, and didn’t quite know what to do with the dagger just yet. So, for now, she left it on her desk until she figured out what to do with it, and maybe find out who gave it to her, and why. Still, as Byleth stood up, something told her that this wouldn’t be the first gift she was getting.

💌💌💌

Although Byleth didn’t keep the dagger kept in such a prominent place, such as the one at her hip, she still decided to take it with her. It was the right size and shape to hide in a sheath on her ankle, just above her boots. It wouldn’t add too much weight to her and was easy enough to grab and use in case she needed to. A backup of a backup of her sword. Not many people noticed the slight change to her wardrobe. In fact, only three people did; Petra, Felix, and Claude. All three of them asked to look at it, and all three of them commented on the craftsmanship and care it had been given by… whoever gave it to her.

“It truly does seem like a fine blade, Teach,” Claude had said, one eye closed as he observed the dagger over a cup of tea, catching the light of the candle in her room and making the blade shine.

“It is, though I haven’t used it in battle, yet,” Byelth replied, taking a sip of the tea. In return, Claude gently tapped the tip of the blade, before running a finger down the silver gravings.

“Seems strong,” he told her nonchalantly. “Sharp, too. A perfect weapon for someone with the name the Ashen Demon, Teach.” Then he set the dagger down on the table and grabbed his cup of tea, his eyes sliding from the blade to her. “I don’t think I’ve seen it in the marketplace. Did you get it somewhere else, or from a traveling merchant? Or has it just always been with you, and you never bothered to use it?”

For a moment, Byleth stilled, unsure of how to reply to that. Should she tell them that she got this from some stranger here? Knowing him, he’d want to know as much as she did.

“I… found it,” Byleth told him after a few seconds of thought, unsure if she wanted to go further into it. Still, she could sense the gleam in Claude’s eyes, his eyebrows widening in surprise as he split the cookie in half.

“Found it? Like, in the woods on a dead body?” He asked, a hint of teasing to his voice, before he bit into the cookie.

Byleth shot him a glare as she set her cup down. “No, not like that,” she replied, shaking her head. “More… it was on my doorstep.”

“A gift?”

“I don’t know,” Byleth said after a pause and another moment of thinking. “No one was there, and although it came with a letter, there was no name on it. I don’t know who gave it to me, or why.”

This time, a frown crossed Claude’s face as he finished chewing, his gaze darting up towards the ceiling of her bedroom. He was silent for a few minutes, but Byleth could see the gears turning in his head. When he finished chewing, Claude spoke.

“A letter, huh? Did it say anything?” He queried in a rather soft voice, pulling his gaze away from the ceiling and looking at Byleth.

“Just… thanks for helping with the war, that I mean a lot to everyone here, that I’m pretty, and that whoever gave me this dagger has been holding onto it since before the assault here five years ago.”

“That long, huh?” Claude’s lips turned upwards into a sly smirk as he leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the wall of her bedroom. “Do you think this means that one of our lovely Golden Deer has a certain… fondness… for you?”

It took a moment for the words to register with Byleth. When they did, she felt the tips of her ears starting to burn, but she schooled her features to give him no indication that she felt embarrassed by the implications.

“Like… a long-pining crush, or a secret admirer?” Byleth asked him, reaching out and grabbing the dagger once more. She didn’t know if she liked that implication, and she always felt better with a weapon in her hand.

Ever so relaxed, Claude shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. Almyran Pine, one of his favorites. The least Byleth could do was try to remember everyone’s favorite type of tea. Petra liked four-spice tea, Felix and Claude both liked Almyran Pine, Ashe liked mint, Sylvain liked Bergamont, so on and so forth.

“Perhaps,” is all he said, a slight frown crossing his face. “I mean, holding onto a gift meant for someone who’d been presumed dead for five years… whoever gave you that gift cares about you a lot.”

“You held onto my father’s diary for five years,” Byleth pointed out. “Is that any different?”

“That dagger is a gift from someone to you, something they held onto for five years,” Claude said, pointing at the dagger. “You let me borrow the diary, and I never got the chance to give it back to you.” Then he glanced away, rubbed the back of his neck. “Speaking of... Sorry for asking you to give it to me five years ago. Looking back on it now, that was pretty selfish of me. I shouldn’t have done something like that.”

“It’s alright,” Byleth replied in a quiet voice, taking a sip of her tea. “And thanks for taking care of it while I was asleep.”

“Yeah… it was the least I could do, really.” Claude paused to take a sip of his tea, his eyes seeming to focus on something Byleth couldn’t see. “Anyways, do you think that whoever sent you that dagger might be some sort of secret admirer?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why they’re being so secretive about it, or why they didn’t sign their name on the card.” She paused to try and think of how to say her next words. “It didn’t seem like some sort of love letter, either. The wording, at least, didn’t indicate it.”

“There could be any number of reasons why they’re being so secretive about it,” Claude told her, setting his cup on the table. “They might be scared to give it to you in person, they’re worried you won’t reciprocate their feelings, writing it out on a card and giving it to you is easier than talking to you…”

“Sounds like you’ve dealt with this before.”

Claude let out a breathy laugh and leaned back in his chair once more, putting his hands behind his head as a smile crossed his face. Was it just Byleth’s imagination, or did a blush cross his face, too?

“Eh, not really. I knew this one kid who did, though, when I was younger. Letters, piling up at his doorstep, all of them from someone unnamed.” His eyes gleamed with the memory, the tension that always seemed to be in his shoulders nowadays disappearing. “He was probably one of the few people I’d consider a friend, now, and I’d like to think he felt the same. We spent almost two months trying to find out who was sending him the letters.”

“How long ago, if you don’t mind me asking?” Byleth asked, before adding another question to her first one. “And did he ever find out who did it?”

Claude shook his head, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “No. It was just before I left to come to the Reigan Estate, when I was fifteen. The anonymous sender was still anonymous when I left.”

His eyebrows furrowed, lips turning downwards into a frown. “I wonder if he ever did after I left. I might have to ask him if I return.” A wink in Byleth’s direction. “My guess was one of the blacksmiths who lived on the other side of town, but we never got anything concrete. Speaking of, do you have any idea of who it might be?”

Byleth shrugged, picking up the dagger and turning it over in her hands. “No, not really. Only that whoever did this cares a lot about me - so probably one of the Deer - and has an eye for quality craftsmanship, like you.”

“Oh? Are you implying that I sent it, Teach?” Claude asked, a sly smile appearing on his face. Again, Byleth thought she saw him blushing, too. “Do you think your precious fawn has a crush on you?”

Unfazed, she set the knife on the table.

“I’m not implying anything,” Byleth replied. “All I’m saying is that this person has an eye for quality craftsmanship and knows I like getting daggers as presents.” Then she stood up, went and retrieved the letter. “I don’t recognize the handwriting. So it’s either someone I don’t know, or they switched their hands.”

Byleth didn’t dare say that the handwriting reminded her distinctly of his, at a deeper glance. Not many people had such pretty but unrecognizable handwriting.

A hum escaped Claude’s lips as Byleth walked over and took a seat. “Let me see,” he said, holding out one hand expectantly. “I might recognize it.”

Byleth did so, and watched his eyes as he scanned the paper. After a few seconds, he shook his head and set it down.

“Nope,” he replied. “The letter itself doesn’t give me much of anything to work with, either.”

“Still, it does beg some questions.” Byleth unsheathed the dagger and ran a hand over the blade. “With the craftsmanship being the way it is, it had to be expensive. Why would someone give it to me without writing their name on it?”

“Maybe they want to impress you,” Claude told her, making a gesture with his hand. “And I have to say, you certainly do seem impressed. This might not be the first gift you’re going to get from this admirer of yours.”

Byleth frowned, not sure what to think about that. “You think they might give me more?”

“It’s a possibility. Based on the wording, I’d say you caught someone’s fancy.” He paused, took a sip of his tea. “What do you think you’re going to do?”

Shrugging, Byleth set the dagger down on the table. “I’m not sure,” she replied. “It’s not like they gave me many hints as to what I should do about it. But at the same time, it seems wasteful to not use it.”

Claude hummed. “Well, for now, you may as well just wait. Perhaps you’ll get another gift. That might give you more of a clue as to who got you this gift, and why.” Then he stood up. “Anyways, thanks for the tea, my friend, but I should get going.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Have a good day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do a little valentine's day thing for, well, valentine's day, and what's valentine's day without love letters, secret admirers, crushes, and pining?
> 
> For those of you who don't know, a locket and chape are the ends of a scabbard on a sword/dagger


	2. The Language of Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another gift arrives on Byleth's doorstep. After receiving it, she heads to the library to get some answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "He smiled, and all I could think was, 'Oh Shit'"
> 
>   
> It took me so long to look up all these different types of flowers for this bouquet

💌💌💌  
 ** _✿ Great Tree Moon, 4/18, 1185 ✿_**

With only three people commenting on the dagger, and neither the letter nor the dagger itself giving Byleth any clue about who had gotten it for her, the anonymous gift was all but forgotten by her.

At least, not until another gift arrived at her door.

Byleth had been heading to her room at Hilda’s request for a teatime when she saw it there. A potted plant, with a bouquet of flowers on it.

“Oh, did someone give you a gift, Professor?” Hilda asked, running over to her doorstep and swooping the bouquet up.

“Apparently,” Byleth mused. A second gift, she thought.

“They’re lovely!” Hilda said, turning to Byleth and shoving her nose into the bouquet. Then she looked back, her eyes widening. “Oh, you have a card, too!”

Byleth frowned, coming up to Hilda's side. "I do?" she asked her, but sure enough, there was another card to go with it, with a heart around her name.

“A heart?” Hilda noticed, before looking at Byleth with a smirk on her face. “Ooh, does someone have a secret admirer? Ah, we have to open it!”

“Do we?” Byleth asked, but Hilda was already walking into Byleth’s room and setting the bouquet on the desk. Byleth frowned, but followed her in and started to prepare the tea.

“Of course, Professor! If someone got you a gift, we’ve got to figure out who and why!”

“I do you: You don’t.”

A small laugh escaped Hilda’s lips. “Oh, I’m your friend, Professor! Of course I do.”

Byleth frowned as she brought the tea set over to her desk and set it down next to the bouquet. Hilda, meanwhile, easily cut through the card with her fingernails, before taking out the letter inside. Again, the handwriting was the same as the one before.

“I saw that you got my last gift, and I hope you liked it. So I got you another something to compliment your beauty,” Hilda read aloud, squeaking when she was done. “Ooh, it appears someone has a crush on you, Professor! Though there’s no name or signature to say who sent it...”

“‘Crush’ seems like a bit of an exaggeration,” Byleth responded, snatching the card out from Hilda’s hand. Still, she couldn’t help but think of Claude’s words: _I’d say you caught someone’s fancy._

“Oh, come on, Professor!” Hilda said, folding her arms behind her back and leaning forward. “Someone got you a bouquet of flowers with a card to go with it that says I got you another something to compliment your beauty! Only someone who is pining for you would do that!”

“I don’t think it’s a crush, Hilda.”

“That’s what you think.”

“It’s what I know.”

Hilda huffed, before pulling out one of the red roses from the bouquet. “Do you know what red roses mean in flower language, Professor?” Byleth was going to ask what flower language was, but Hilda cut her off. “They're a sign of love! Why do you think everyone gets their S/O roses when people go on dates?”

“Because they’re pretty.”

Hilda shook her head, putting the rose back in the bouquet. “That’s one reason, yes, but in flower language, giving red roses to someone means that I love you?”

Byleth could only think of what Sothis could say if she found out that she’d been giving roses to Lorenz since she learned that the noble liked the flower.

“Flower language?” Byleth asked, ignoring her mind rambling. Hilda’s jaw dropped agape, and she let out a huff.

“You mean you don’t know what flower language is?” Hilda asked her. Byleth shook her head.

“Should I?”

“Any lady who ever hopes to get a man should!” Hilda replied, crossing her arms over her chest, and Byleth frowned. She was not looking for a man, not with a war going on. She had no time for love, not right now.

“Care to explain?” Byleth said, turning to get the tea prepared for the two of them. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean by flower language.”

“You see, every flower has a meaning, Professor,” Hilda said, taking a seat in one of the chairs in Byleth’s tiny room. “For example, red roses mean love, sunflowers are adoration, and chrysanthemum is cheerfulness, stuff like that. Though I’m afraid I don’t know the meaning of every flower known to man. You’re better off looking to Ashe or Lorenz for all of that stuff.”

Frowning, Byleth paused in her task and looked at the bouquet, spinning it around to look at the flowers she had gotten. Gardenias, red carnations, calla lily, and red roses. If what Hilda was saying was correct, then all of these meant something, like how red roses meant love.

Did they mean that whoever sent this to… liked her? Romantically?

“Do you know what any of these mean, aside from the roses?”

Hilda shook her head as Byleth returned to get the tea. “No, not really. I do know that calla lilies are hard to get, harder than regular lilies or lilies-of-the-valley. You might want to check with the greenhouse keeper and see if anyone has been growing those lately, if you really want to know who sent this to you.”

 _That actually didn’t sound like a bad idea,_ Byleth reasoned as she poured the tea. Perhaps she could go and visit the library, too, see if there were any books about this ‘flower language’ Hilda told her about.

“Why do you think someone would send a bouquet of flowers to me?” She asked Hilda, closing her eyes.

“Obviously someone who likes you, Professor!” Hilda replied, and Byleth could hear the barely-restrained squeal in her voice. “Who else would send you red roses and a bouquet of other flowers with nothing more than an unsigned note than a secret admirer?”

Byleth’s ears started to heat up, and she handed Hilda her cup of tea. “So someone here likes me?” She queried, before wrapping her hands around her own cup. “Let’s say that that’s true. Who do you think likes me? Because, quite frankly, I have no idea.”

Hilda took a sip of her tea and rapped her fingers on the table. After she finished drinking, she set the cup down and batted her eyes. “Well, personally, I’ve had my eye on a few people who seem really close to you here. Closer than you are with most people.”

“Like who?” Byleth asked, because if she was being frank, she couldn’t tell who favored her over others. Honestly, everyone all seemed to treat her the way they treated everyone else.

A sly smirk crossed Hilda’s face. “Oh, what would be the fun of you finding out if I tell you?”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Oh, no, Professor,” Hilda said with a wave of her finger. “Plus, I don’t think it’ll really help you with finding out who sent these to you.”

“I disagree. It may help a lot. You clearly know a lot more about love than I do.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m an expert,” Hilda replied. “I just see and hear things through the grapevine. Though, speaking of seeing things, is there anyone you may suspect who sent this to you?”

“Someone who cares about me,” is all Byleth would say. A pause, then she added, “And possibly who wants to impress me. This… isn’t the first gift I’ve gotten.”

Hilda’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward. “Really?” She asked. “Oh, what else did they get you? Jewelry? A book? Chocolates? Did they write you a sappy love letter yet?”

“This.”

Byleth unsheathed the dagger given to her by this admirer and set it on the table. She didn’t miss how Hilda’s face fell a little bit when she saw that it wasn’t jewelry, but Byleth didn’t really care. She’d much rather take a dagger or a weapon over a piece of jewelry any time.

“It suits you,” Hilda said, looking up at Byleth. “So this was another gift?”

“The first - and until I got the flowers - the only one I got.” She paused, took a sip of her drink. “It’s fine craftsmanship, something they would know I like. Though it does look expensive.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Hilda asked. “I’d never have known you to like expensive things, really. You’re a little bit like Leonie in that sense.” Then she tapped a finger on her chin. “You like simple gifts, yes?”

Byleth frowned. “I don’t really know. I’ve never gotten much in the way of gifts,” she admitted. “The only gifts I’ve ever gotten were this dagger -” She tapped the dagger on the table - “The dagger at my waist, the bracelet from five years ago, and now this bouquet of flowers. But I guess I wouldn’t really care what kind of gifts I get, so long as they come from the heart.”

A hum escaped Hilda’s lips. “Simple and straightforward. Just like you, Professor,” Hilda replied. “But enough about secret admirers and romance. Let’s talk fashion!”

It was only after Hilda left did it occur to Byleth the depth of the simple question she asked: _You like simple gifts, yes?_ Did that mean Hilda was the one who did it?

 _No,_ Byleth reasoned, shaking her head. Although the ‘delicate flower’ would never admit it, she’d been batting her eyes at Marianne for some time. But then why would she ask such a cryptic question like that? Did she know who was sending her the gifts and letters? But for now, Byleth would have to work on figuring out this flower language. If she did, then maybe she could find who sent them to her, and why.

💌💌💌

The next chance she got, Byleth visited the library to pick up a book on flowers and go and see if anyone had been growing calla lilies in the greenhouse. When she did, only a few people were in there. Lysithea and Annette were pouring over a book together, and Lindhart was sleeping in the one corner. Claude was sleeping at a table, a pile of books around him. Byleth frowned, shaking her head once she saw him. It was still early in the morning, so it would be reasonable to assume he had stayed up all night researching whatever book about Crests or Relics or Fodlan’s history has caught his fancy. He really needed to take better care of himself and rest when he was supposed to, especially now that they were in the middle of a war. 

After asking one of the nuns about where she could find books on plants, Byleth headed up to the second floor and grabbed the first one she saw. Once she did that, she went back to the first floor and took a seat across from Claude, cracking it open. She saw his finger twitch, and she knew that Claude was at least half-awake and sensed her presence. Recalling the flowers from the bouquet, she flipped to the first page of flowers; Calla lily, the rare one.

_The Calla lily, also known as the arum lily, is a flower native to Morfis and Almyra, anywhere where it is warm and dry, commonly found near ponds and streams on the banks. They symbolize beauty, purity, and magnificence._

_Beauty and magnificence, huh?_ Byleth asked herself, frowning. _Admirer, indeed. Maybe Hilda was right, and someone here does like me. But why? And why the secrecy?_

Making a mental note of that, Byleth flipped to the next plant on the list: carnations, specifically the red ones that she was given.

_The single flowers of the Carnations species, Dianthus caryophyllus have 5 petals and vary from white to pink to purple in color. Border Carnation cultivars may have double flowers with as many as 40 petals. The symbolism can change depending on the color._

  * _White carnations symbolize purity and luck._
  * _Light red carnations symbolize admiration._
  * _Dark red carnations symbolize love and affection._
  * _Pink carnations symbolize gratitude._
  * _Yellow carnations symbolize disappointment or rejection._
  * _Purple carnations symbolize capriciousness._



“ _Encyclopedia of plants?_ ”

Looking up from the book, Byleth saw Claude lazily propping his head upon one of his hands. He still appeared to be half-asleep, his hair mussed up and eyes half-lidded. His gaze was on the book, but there was a glint in her eyes.

“Research,” Byleth replied simply.

"Plants, huh?" He mused, his eyes darting from the book up to her. "Why plants?”

“You were right; I got another gift,” she replied, and Claude perked up, sitting up straighter.

“You did?” He queried, before leaning forward. “Flowers, huh? Bouquet?”

“Good guess. Not that I still have any clue as to who gave them to me.”

Claude hummed. “Why are you researching flowers? I thought that you’d be out trying to find this secret admirer of yours.”

“I had tea with Hilda earlier, and she was there when I got the flowers. She told me about this ‘flower language’, where all flowers have a meaning or something.” She paused, rapped her fingers on the table. “She thought that my secret admirer might know about this, and that the flowers that I did get mean something.”

“What kind of flowers did you get?” Claude asked, and after a moment, he stood up and walked around the table, before taking a seat next to Byleth.

“Carnations, Calla lilies, red roses, and gardenias.”

“Red roses, eh?” He mused. “Well, it’s easy to tell what those mean-”

“-Love,” Byleth interrupted with a nod. “Hilda told me.”

“Meaning that I was right,” Claude replied, shooting a wink at her, matched with a very sly smile that looked far coyer than it usually did. “You _did_ catch someone’s fancy, my friend.”

“The question is, who?” She asked no one in particular as she reached gardenias.

“Ah, gardenias, which Ignatz claims to be one of the most beautiful of flowers,” Claude chimed in. He leaned over to look at the page, close enough where his shoulder was brushing hers and Byleth could feel the heat radiating from him. The tips of her ears started to burn, and Byleth hoped that Claude couldn’t see her blush. “What does it say?”

“Let’s see here… The gardenia is an exotic flower, found only in warm places, such as Morfis and southern Fodlan. These flowers are full of personality and are eye-catching, especially because of their ‘bright’ green color and leaves, among other aspects. Although roses are best known for their beauty, gardenias aren’t far behind. Their beauty is known almost everywhere throughout the world.”

“What about the symbolism?”

Byleth frowned, scanning the page for it.

“The white gardenia stands out because of its symbolism: Secret love, joy, purity, sweetness… They tell the receiver that they are lovely.”

“How charming,” Claude said, finally giving Byleth some breathing room as he leaned back. She let out a breath that she didn’t even know she had. “Secret love, eh? Someone is dead-set on impressing you, Teach.”

“Apparently,” she replied. “Three of the plants I got represent love and the other represents beauty. And yet, they won’t give a name. It’s like a game of sorts.”

“Well, I can’t speak for this admirer of yours, but I do agree with the beauty part,” Claude told her, and her ears burned more. A glance at Claude’s face revealed the slight blush on it. “Not to be a Sylvain, but even I can admit you’re beautiful.”

For a moment, Byleth froze, quite unsure of what to say. She’d been called beautiful before by lots of men, mostly people looking to bed her. But she knew Claude, and she knew when he was lying, most of the time. And right now, he wasn’t lying.

“You think I’m beautiful?” She asked him, averting her gaze from him.

“If I’m being honest, yeah,” Claude admitted, and Byleth could feel his eyes on her, boring into her, and she could see the smile on his face. Then he tapped the book. “Clearly, I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

Byleth frowned. Was it just her imagination, or was that some sort of deflection?

“Still doesn’t help me figure out who sent these,” Byleth told him.

“Well, do you have any suspects yet?” He asked, before leaning over her shoulder to look at the book once more.

“Because in my personal opinion, based on this flower language, the craftsmanship of the dagger, and how expensive it was, my guess would be either Lorenz, Ferdinand or Sylvain. I’d say Felix, but let’s be honest, he’d probably get you another dagger instead of a bouquet. Maybe Marianne, too; even though she’s gained a lot of confidence over the five years, she’s still somewhat timid, timid enough to send a letter instead of saying her feelings outright.”

Byleth hummed, unsure of what to say to that. All four of those guys could be potential suspects, sure, but there was one other person that he was conveniently leaving out: himself. She didn’t count too hard on Marianne, because both she and Hilda had been dancing around each other for months.

“One of them, huh?” She asked after a few seconds. Claude nodded.

“Yeah,” Claude replied, leaning back in the chair and putting his hands behind his head as he did so. “Though I feel like Sylvain would say it outright instead of doing this mysterious letter, but still.”

Something told her he was off base about that, but she didn’t have enough evidence to say otherwise. “Why them?”

Claude shrugged. “Any number of reasons,” he replied. “The exact reasons, I don’t know why.” He shot her a wink, then. “Perhaps you should ask them and find out.”

“I think I’ll refrain from doing that,” Byleth replied. “Not until I have more evidence, at least. Plus, we’re in the middle of a war. There’s not really a lot of time for romance and relationships in a war.”

“Have you ever been in a relationship, Teach?” Claude asked, eyeing her out of the corner of his eyes. “You don’t exactly seem like the kind of person interested in that sort of stuff.”

“I was, once,” Byleth replied, closing her eyes, and despite that, she felt a smile coming up on her face. “A long time ago.”

“Ooh, I didn’t know you’ve dated someone, Teach,” Claude said, a sly grin appearing on his face as he leaned towards her. “I hope you don’t mind a guy prying a little bit, but what was his name? Or hers, I guess, if you’re partial to that. How long did you two date for?"

Byleth frowned, feeling the tips of her ears starting to burn at how close he was to her, and she hoped she wasn’t blushing. Gently, she pushed him back with one hand to give herself some breathing room, but the scent of pine needles still lingered.

“Neeks. Neeks Rohan,” She told him, rolling the ‘R’ in his last name, before frowning, a memory flashing in her head. “And we dated for… about a year. But that’s all I’m going to say. It’s not like I can change the past.”

“Oh, come on, Teach!” Claude said, throwing his hands up in the air, only to be shushed by Lysithea and Annette. He muttered an apology under his breath as he waved at them, before shooting a half-hearted glare at her. “You won’t tell me anything? Nothing more than his name?”

Despite herself, Byleth felt a smile creeping onto her face. “Only that he was the craziest son of a bastard I’ve ever met,” She replied. “But I need to get going. I’m supposed to help Ashe with lunch today.”

“Well, in that case, I wish you luck on finding this secret admirer, my friend,” Claude said, before pulling some of the books that had been on the table over to him. “I can put that book up for you, if you’d like.” Once more, he flashed her his usual wink and award-winning smile. “It’s the least a friend can do, yeah?”

“Thank you,” Byleth said, setting the book on the table and standing up. “I’ll see you later, Claude.”

Claude just gave a wave of his hand as he delved back into the pile of books that had been surrounding him when she walked in, and Byleth frowned. Maybe it was just her imagination, but he seemed to be a lot more… odd, these days. She didn’t know how to describe it. He’d been really flustered when he called her beautiful, but at the same time, he had no problem leaning into the little personal-space bubble Byleth had developed over the years. Plus, he knew quite a bit about flowers, and the dagger at her ankle seemed exactly the kind of gift he would give her.

Was there a chance that…?

No, Byleth would _not_ go there right now. She was in the middle of a war, and had no time to focus on romance; Claude was probably dealing with the same thing. Plus, a friendship was one thing from him, but Byleth sometimes still wondered if he would ever let someone in, romantically. And, even if he did like her romantically, if Byleth confronted him about it, he’d probably just deny it, knowing the famed Master Tactician. Without anything concrete tying these gifts and letters to him, he could just wriggle his way out of her claims. No, if he truly did send those, she’d need to show him facts and concrete evidence that he did that. And that would be hard enough to get.

Still, if she was being honest with herself, Byleth was quite looking forward to the challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The denial begins (And Annette and Lysithea just want to study)


	3. Sweets, Schemes and Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth has a brief moment resembling an existential crisis, then sets a trap for this secret admirer of hers. Upon failing, she visits Claude and has a heart-to-heart with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "How do you spell love?" -Piglet
> 
> "You don't spell it. You feel it" -Pooh
> 
> Or, how to figure out what love feels like when you don't even know what love feels like

💌💌💌

**_✿ Harpstring Moon, 5/5, 1185 ✿_ **

The next gift arrived just days after the mess that was Grondor. 

Byleth spent the first few days after Grondor nursing a wound and stomachache from a poison-tipped arrow got her in the side, and subsequently hearing about Manuela complaining about the latest failed dates she’d been on. All of the Deer had come to visit her at various times, too, so it wasn’t like her bedrest was totally boring. Lysithea, Mercedes, and Annette had brought her sweets, Leonie, Raphael, and Ignatz had entertained her with stories, she watched Hilda tease Marianne, she had an impromptu tea party with Lorenz and Ferdinand, and Claude had continued to discuss Relics and Crests while they shared a cup of Almyran Pine.

When she finally got enough strength to start walking again, the first thing she did was -after checking her doorstep to see if there were any gifts there - go back to the training grounds and have a sparring match with Felix, Ingrid, and Petra. She knew it was probably better to rest for a few days, considering how bad the wound was, but she didn’t want her skills to dull. Plus, it kept her busy, in a way gardening nor fishing had. 

After her impromptu training session, Byleth went back to her room to have a few moments to herself. But when she got to her doorstep, there was another box waiting for her there. This time, it was purple, with a white ribbon on top and a card underneath the ribbon. Frowning, Byleth looked around, wondering if she could spot who did it. But the dorms were relatively empty of people, so Byleth grabbed the box and stepped inside, repeating the process with the card she’d done before. 

_I heard that you liked the sweets that Mercedes, Annette, and Lysithea brought to you while on bed rest. So I got you a few more, though I’m afraid to admit they’re not as good as theirs. Still, I hope you enjoy._

_P.S., if you do want more, then just write a message and put it on one of the bulletin boards around the monastery. I’d be happy to go through the trouble to get more, if it means I get to see you smile._

A warmth spread out in Byleth’s chest at the letter, something she couldn’t describe, not with words, at least. But the fact that someone went through the trouble of getting these sweets for her, and then going through more to see her smile… 

Admiration, flattery, with a slight twinge of embarrassment at the sappiness of the letter, of the words. That was what she felt. Six years ago, she wouldn’t have the words to describe how she felt, even if she would even feel anything at that. Usually, when boys tried to charm her, it didn’t work. But there was something about this that seemed so much more… sincere. Kind. Truthful. 

Setting the letter down, Byleth opened up the box to reveal tiny bites of chocolate inside, separated by a small tin, like what Mercedes and Annette used to make their cupcakes, but smaller. Gently, Byleth picked one of the chocolates out of the box and bit into it, even though she could probably eat it all in one bite, should she choose to do so. 

They weren’t as good as the sweets that Annette and Mercedes made, sure, but they still melted on her tongue, with a little hint of - was that sea salt? She’d heard the bakers talking about sea-salt chocolates before, but Byleth had never actually tried it herself. The chocolate itself was rather rich, not too sweet but not too bitter. Clearly, whoever made this took their time. Quickly, Byleth finished the first chocolate, before popping one, two, three more into her mouth. She was about to eat a fourth when the full realization of this whole thing hit her.

The dagger, the flower, the chocolates… someone in the monastery clearly liked her, enough to do all of this. They were charming her, courting her, trying to win… what? 

Her affection? Her love? Or something else entirely? Without a name, Byleth had no idea who was sending all of this to her, why they were doing it, why they were staying hidden. All she knew was that someone liked her.

Romantically.

That was much more of a shock to Byleth than she cared to admit. Boys had courted her before, ever since she was about eighteen or so, maybe a bit younger. But they were all just greedy guys, looking to have a taste of her lips, her skin, and then discard her like trash. Empty flirts, sweet words, batting their eyes… Byleth was practically immune to that sort of stuff by now.

This was different, though, in some way. She didn’t know how, she just did. Someone in the monastery liked her. And if she kept digging into this, kept trying to find out who it was, and she did, what would she do? Byleth had friends, sure, friends like Claude and Hilda and Marianne and Felix. 

A romantic relationship was different, though. Even the relationship she had with Neeks was… quiet. Soft. Somewhat casual, she had to admit. Partly because she didn’t really ‘feel’ stuff, and partly because Neeks had been somewhat terrified of her father (unless he was drunk). Even if he hadn’t left, their relationship probably would’ve faded out eventually. They would’ve been better off at friends.

If someone here liked her, though, what should she do? She had no experience with serious romantic relationships. Hell, friendship was a sort of vague, new thing to her, much less… something like this. If she found out who liked her, what should Byleth do? Would she turn them down? Would she accept, and try to have a romantic relationship with them? What would she do? Did she even like anyone here as more of a friend, or were they all just… there? Even people like Claude and Flayn and the Deer? 

Gulping, Byleth closed the lid on the box of chocolates, before reaching into a tiny pouch at her waist. Untying it, she flipped it over, and her mother’s ring fell out of it and onto her open palm. Jeralt’s words echoed in her voice.

_“One day, I hope you’ll give this ring to someone you love as well as I love her.”_

_Someone I love,_ Byleth repeated, tracing the pattern on the shining, silver ring with her finger. Did she love anyone here? And if she did, would it be enough to give them that ring, eventually? Or would it just sit in her pouch collecting dust for the rest of her life? What did love even feel like? Happiness, sadness, anger, peace… those were all things Byleth had started to feel since she came to the monastery. But she had no experience with love, not romantically, anyways. 

Byleth loved her father; she knew that much. She didn’t even realize it until after she lost him to that _coward_. Her father loved her back, even if neither of them showed it that well. But the bond they had was unbreakable: that was love. 

Curling her fingers around the ring, Byleth thought back to her relationship with Neeks, tried to pick out bits and pieces of it that could differentiate ‘friendship’ from ‘love.’ Sure, they had made out a few times, but that didn’t really qualify as love. Even Byleth knew that love ran deeper than that. Byleth had always enjoyed his laugh, the way it twinkled in the dead of night as they drank around a campfire. She had admired his skill with a blade, how a match between the two of them could always end up her pinning him to the ground or vice-versa, something hard to find these days. 

She had always felt a warmth in her chest whenever they snuck out in the dead of night to go fishing or climb trees or even just be close with him without the risk of her father finding out. She had always enjoyed looking into his eyes, eyes black as ink, eyes that glimmered with starlight whenever he laughed or came up with something that would end up with the two of them in trouble, but had left a grin on his face and stories to tell over the campfire. 

But was that love, or just friendship? And if it was, in fact, love, was there anyone else her she felt that way about? Was there anyone here that she enjoyed spending time with, in the same way she had felt with Neeks and her father? 

The first thought that came to her mind was Claude. The charming schemer of the Golden Deer house had captured her attention from the moment she first saw him, and she always enjoyed spending time with him. Dare she say that, after coming to the monastery, he was the first friend she made there. There was always something so captivating about him, the glint in his eyes, the smirk he wore like a shield. 

The rational part of Byleth’s brain reasoned that, even if she did like him like that, would he even like her back? Was he the one sending the gifts? He always kept people at arm’s reach, never letting them get close to him. Even between the two of them, there were still barriers, stuff that he wouldn’t share with her. 

Plus, he was always so busy with the war, same as her, and he was also Duke Reigan as well, head of the Alliance, the only reason it probably hadn’t split into two while she was gone. Did he even worry about simple stuff such as relationships, when he was too busy trying to make sure no one died? Something strung at the inside of Byleth’s chest, then, something she didn’t dare say the word for. Instead, she put the ring back inside its pouch - it had pressed lines into her hand - closed it up, and put it back on her waist. 

💌💌💌

**_✿ Harpstring Moon, 5/16, 1185 ✿_ **

After that realization, Byleth was torn between two extremes. One part of her wanted to figure out who was sending these gifts to her, but the other part wanted to drop the whole damn thing. But the ever-curious part of Byleth won out after a new idea formed in her head. 

What if she turned the tables, and got this secret admirer of hers a gift for them? 

The letter had said _‘if you want more, then just write a message and put it on one of the bulletin boards around the monastery’_. Byleth had to admit the chocolates were good, for sure. So, she figured that, what if she got a gift for them and set it at one of the message boards? Maybe, then, she could go and see who got the gift. That might make the whole damn thing easier. 

Of course, there were two problems with that plan. One was finding a place private enough to set it at so Seteth didn’t see it and say anything, but also finding a place public enough where they wouldn’t miss the damn thing. Her first thought was the message board at the cathedral, but only a handful of students joined Byleth during choir practice or went there to pray. 

The other problem was what kind of gift she could give them. Everyone in the monastery had distinctly different tastes - from Annette and Mercedes to liking sweets, to Cyril, Petra and Felix liking hunting daggers, to yet other people liking tea and other distinctly noble things. There was a wide variety of the types of gifts she could get people, and some people were so picky they only liked two or three types of gifts, while others could like up to as much as ten.

Of course, she did start a list of people it could not be. Based on the handwriting, locations, and current relationships with other people, Byleth could narrow down potential suspects. Hilda was not one; she was with Byleth when she received the flowers, and had been batting eyes at Marianne for a while, meaning the bluenette was out as well. Felix, Ingrid and Petra were also out. Felix and Ingrid danced around one another, and all three of them had been with Byleth when she received the chocolates. Plus, she’d seen Petra and Dorthea holding hands in the monastery, so the songstress was out, too. 

There were a few other people she discounted as well. She’d seen Lysithea and Cyril pouring over books in the monastery together, Sylvain’s handwriting was literal chicken scratch and not a match to the handwriting of the letters, and Caspar and Linhardt were far more than just friends. 

Of course, that still left a whole myriad of potential people who could like her; and with that, left a whole myriad and variety of gifts she could set out. 

She spent the next few days pondering what to do, while also making preparations to go to Merceus, which usually just concerned training. Claude, aside from making the occasional appearance in the dining hall, spent most of his days locked in his room, working on this ‘golden and grand’ scheme of his. He wouldn’t let anyone in, not even Byleth, and usually spoke through the door, similar to Bernadetta.

So Byleth busied herself, fishing, training, gardening, cooking, and trying to figure out what gift(s) she could set out. Eventually, she figured out her own little scheme.

At the bulletin board in the Knight’s hall - she’d never seen Seteth there before - Byleth would set out three gifts. An armored bear stuffy, a dagger, and a bag of tea leaves. Above that would be a note that read, “A gift, for whoever got me the damn chocolates,” and she wouldn’t sign her name, either. Hopefully, whoever got her these gifts would recognize it was for them.

Of course, there was always a chance that some random monk or child or knight would grab it instead - free stuff, after all - but Byleth would be watching. 

So after writing the note and collecting the gifts, Byleth waited until early morning before she went and put it there. Since she was a kid, she’d gotten up with the sun, and laid down with it, so getting up that early was an easy task for her. Plus, the monastery would be relatively empty as well, so hopefully no one would see her. As she suspected, only a bare few people were out, all of whom paid her no mind as she made her way to the Knights Hall. Once she got there, she pinned the note to the board, before setting the three gifts directly under it. After, she retreated from the Knights hall.

Now all she had to do was find a place within view of the Knight’s hall where she could see if someone took one of the objects. Of course, it would be hard to do that, without said admirer spotting her. She needed a place to hide, but where?

It took a while, but she finally deduced the best place to ‘hide’: the gazebo in between the stables and the knights all. It would give her a clear view of the entrance to the Knight’s hall, and as long as this admirer of hers didn’t come through that way, she’d be relatively hidden. She had also brought all of her work on her and dumped on one of the tables there, dead-set on not moving from it except to occasionally “stretch her legs”.

The day went by slow, and only a few people entered and exited the Knights hall. Hilda, Catherine, Marianne, Shamir and a few of the Knights. But none of them neither entered nor left with anything. Eventually, as the sun started to dip below the horizon, and her stomach started to growl, Byleth decided to call it a day. Packing up her stuff, she went over to check the list of gifts, but none of them were gone. So, afterward, she headed to her room, then the dining hall for some much-needed food. 

Wondering if Claude had gotten anything to eat today, Byleth also grabbed a plate for him as well, deciding to pay him a visit and drop it off at his room. And if he didn’t want it, well, more food for Byleth. She rapped her knuckles lightly against his door, balancing the plate in one hand and the stack of work she had under her arm. “Claude? Are you in there?”

“Teach?” His muffled voice came in from the other side. “What are you doing here?” 

“I brought dinner. I don’t know if you’ve eaten yet.”

There was rustling and thudding from inside his room, and Byleth thought she heard him cursing under his breath. A moment later, the door cracked open, and she saw Claude peering at her from the other side, the stray strand of hair that used to be his braid hanging over his one eye. 

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes darting to the plate of hand in her food, before he opened up the door a little bit more. “Do you want to come in? I could use a break.”

“Sure,” Byleth replied. The door opened up wider, and Byleth stepped in, before handing the plate to him. He dressed in a simple tunic and trousers that looked a little bit too small and baggy on him. He muttered a thanks to her as he took the plate, before closing the door behind the two of them. 

“How goes the plan?” She asked as she went and took a seat on the chair, taking a stack of books and moving them to his desk. Claude, meanwhile, collapsed in the middle of the floor, surrounded by books, maps and other assorted papers.

“Slow,” Claude replied, balancing the plate on his knee. “I’ll need a tad more time to prepare. It is called an impregnable fortress, after all. To make this work, my contingencies will need contingencies. But we’re getting there, my friend.”

Byleth let out a long sigh, resting her head on his desk. “I hope it works.”

“Yeah… if I’m being honest, me too.” Absentmindedly, the schemer scratched his hair and let out a sigh. “Even the best of schemes can be dismantled if I’m not careful enough.” He muttered something under his breath, but she didn’t catch it. 

“You should take a break,” Byleth said, looking around the messier-than-usual room, covered in books and papers. Failnaught rested on his bed, next to a golden-colored quiver of arrows. In the corner of the desk was a little set-up Byleth assumed he used to make those poisons of his. “Keep going like this, and you’re going to run yourself ragged. Then you’ll be of no help to anyone.”

“We only have so long,” Claude replied, before pausing to take a bite of his food. “Not really enough time for a break.”

“Says the person always telling me to take a break and who just said he needed a break,” Byleth retorted, shooting a glare that he didn’t see. A breathy laugh escaped his lips.

“I’ve been working non-stop for the past five years,” he replied. “I have a lot more experience than you think.”

“So do I.”

Another soft chuckle escaped his lips, before Claude set the plate down next to him, and he laid down, moving some books so they propped up his head. “Maybe I should,” he replied. “You’re a bad influence, Teach.”

Byleth frowned, noticing slight bags under his eyes, how… unkempt... he seemed. “Have you gotten any sleep recently? You look exhausted.”

Claude’s brow furrowed, and he was silent for a few moments. At Byleth’s glare, he half-heartedly said, “Not really.”

Picking up one of the books still on his table, she tossed at him, gently. “Get some sleep,” she told him as the book landed on his chest. Brushing it off, he placed a hand on his chest, looking up at her with a wounded expression.

“Ah, you wound me, Teach,” he said, but a smile appeared on his face. Byleth sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I swear, I feel like I’m a mother to you guys half the time.”

That incited a bark of laughter from Claude, and he sat up, picking the plate up and turning to face her. “A mother, huh?” He asked. “From mercenary to professor to war commander to acting Archbishop to mother. Hell of a jump, Teach.”

Byleth hummed in response.

“You know, how comes this whole secret admirer thing? Get any gifts recently?”

“Chocolates, earlier this month,” She replied. Claude paused to take a bite of his food, chewing thoughtfully.

“Sweets, huh?” He mused once he finished. “First a dagger, then a bouquet, then sweets… a variety of gifts, for sure.”

“And still no clue who sent them,” Byleth said, rapping her fingers on the table. She didn’t dare tell him about the little scheme of her own. 

“I’d say one of our baking quartet, but I’m pretty sure that Ashe and Annette have eyes only for each other, and Mercedes is one of the few people who can put up with Sylvain’s schemes.”

“And Lysithea seems to like Cyril more than she cares to admit,” Byleth added on.

“So no answers,” Claude replied. “You’re not getting anywhere, are you?”

“Not really. Looks like we’re both stuck.”

Claude nodded in response, staring at her with a look Byleth couldn’t figure out what it meant for the life of her. After a few seconds, she leaned closer and clapped her hands together. Claude startled, eyes widening in surprise. He looked so startled, it made Byleth laugh.

“Hey, what was that-” he started, only to stop when he saw Byleth laughing. He glared at her, but a smile appeared on his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh before. Was it really that funny?”

“A little,” Byleth replied. 

A small growl escaped the back of his throat, but he took another bite of his food. Byleth waited for him to finish chewing before she said, “If you were in my place, what would you do?”

“Hm?” Claude voiced, looking up at her with furrowed brows. “What do you mean?”

“This whole… gifts and secret admirer things… I’ve never really dealt with… well, with any of this before… much less anything to do with relationships,” Byleth said, shifting in her chair. “Sure, I dated Neeks, but… that was casual, and… if I do find out who’s sending me this stuff… I don’t know what I would do.”

“You mean, like, in terms of dating them?” Claude asked, frowning. Byleth nodded.

“Yeah… I’ve had guys flirt with me before, both as a mercenary and a professor, like Sylvain. But… it occurred to me that… whoever is going through all this trouble to get this stuff and do this for me must really like me… a lot.”

Byleth paused, wondering how to phrase the words she wanted to say. There was still that annoying little hunch in her head, telling her stuff she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear or not. After all, there was a chance that Claude could be sending the gifts to her, and if he was… what did that mean for Byleth? 

“Clearly,” Claude mused in her silence, running a hand through his hair and looking to the side. Was it just her imagination, or was that a blush she saw on his cheeks? “N-not that I have much experience with that.”

“Me either,” she replied, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye. “I just… I don’t know what I would do if I found this person… I mean, love… that’s a hard concept to grasp, especially for me. Even now, it’s still hard to tell the difference between love and friendship.”

“And you don’t know what you would do if you found this person out,” Claude replied in a somewhat grim voice, before sighing. “I suppose you didn’t deal with that a lot when you were younger, hmm?”

“Not really. Not only was I never interested, my dad usually scared away most guys.”

A light chuckle escaped Claude’s lips. “Yeah, I can imagine Captain Jeralt doing that,” he replied. He was silent for a few seconds, before adding, “I wonder what he’d think of all this secret admirer stuff now.”

“He’d probably tear up the monastery looking for this guy, or have a guard posted at my door,” Byleth replied, then she sat up in her chair. “Oh, maybe I could do something like that.”

“Have someone watch your room at all hours?” Claude asked, raising his eyebrows. “That’s a bold move, Teach. Plus, how do you know the person won’t change where they’re putting the gifts?”

“If they don’t notice someone is watching, they won’t,” she replied with a shrug. Claude frowned, then shrugged. 

“Whatever you say, Teach,” he replied, before raising one eyebrow, a smile appearing on his face. “Would you want me to do that? I do have a pretty sharp eye.”

Byleth considered that for a moment. If it was him, it would allow him to put the gifts there without having to say anything. But if it wasn’t him, then he would probably tell her who was putting the gifts there.

“Aren’t you busy?” She asked nonchalantly, eyeing the map of Merceus behind him. “I’m sure that you’re busy with your scheme, _Master Tacticia_ n.”

Claude groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Ugh, please don’t call me that, Teach,” he replied. “I hate that nickname. I’m just a schemer.” Then he glanced at her, a sly smile on his face. “Well? Are you going to take me up on my offer?” 

“Perhaps."

“Perhaps?” 

Byleth shrugged, raising one brow. “There are still a lot of people who could’ve sent me the gifts, you included. I’m not counting anyone out until I figure this out.”

“Oh, come on, you really think that I’d be behind this?” Claude asked her, though his gaze darted to and from her a few times, a tell-tale sign of nervousness.

“I don’t know: Are you?”

He shot her a wink and a smile to match in return. “Come on, Teach, do you honestly think I would leave mysterious letters and gifts instead of saying it in person?”

“Maybe,” she replied. “I can’t discount that.” 

Claude chuckled in response. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing I can say that would convince you that I’m not the one doing it, huh?” He asked. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he kept his mouth shut. 

“You know, have you ever been in a relationship yourself?” Byleth asked, rapping her fingers on the desk. “You don’t seem so interested in that stuff yourself.”

“Turning the tables, eh, Teach?” Claude replied, before frowning and rubbing the back of his neck. “Relationships, huh? Can’t say I’ve ever been in one. Maybe back at the academy, I could’ve been in one, but… now, between leading the Alliance and being a war commander, well… I barely have time to myself, much less time for a relationship. But… maybe one day, yeah.” A small, soft smile crossed his face, almost invisible, and his eyes darted to Byleth, gleaming. “I’d like to share my dream with someone.”

“And who would that be?” She queried, tilting her head. Yeah, he was definitely blushing, and it seemed to deepen, too, as he sucked in a breath.

“I’m… I’m not sure,” Claude said after a minute’s hesitation, refusing to meet Byleth’s gaze, something that cemented that little annoying hunch of hers. “I’ve, uh… I’ve never really thought of that. I just… I’d think it be nice to have someone to share my dream with.”

“Someone other than me?” Byleth said, referring to the night they shared at the Goddess tower, and when she found him under the stars not too long after her slumber. 

“Well, of course you’re going to be a part of it, my friend,” Claude replied shooting a half-hearted wink at her, before a frown crossed his face. “But what are you going to do after the war? Go back to being a mercenary, or a professor? And if we don’t find Rhea, then what? Would you become the Archbishop, or would just… go?”

That gave Byleth pause. She hadn’t actually thought about what she would do after the war. Sure, she had thought about it when she was a professor - go back to being a mercenary - but that was before her father had died. And now, as a war commander, what would she do after the war ended?

“I… I don’t know, honestly,” she replied, frowning. “I suppose I’ve never given it much thought, not after… not after dad’s death.”

Claude tilted his head, studying her. Then, he glanced at the window of his room, an indescribable look on her face. “What would you want to do? Would you go back to being a mercenary? Would you still work at the Church? Or something else entirely?”

“I’d have to think about it,” Byleth replied, frowning. There was something about this that felt a little… personal, like he was trying to wring something out from her. Sure, he’d done that before, mostly after she got the Sword of the Creator, but… 

No, there was that hunch again. He was just curious, it had to be just that. And if Byleth was being honest, it did raise some questions about what she would do after the war. What would she do? Claude yawned, then, breaking the silence that was hovering between the two of them, and Byleth glanced at him, before looking to the window. It was a bit darker now, only the horizon painted with orange and reddish-pink.

“You should get some sleep,” Byleth told him. Claude rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her.

“Yeah, probably,” he replied, smiling. “Thanks for paying me a visit, Teach. And I wish you luck with finding this secret admirer of yours.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, standing up, before looking around. “You should get some fresh air, too. It’s not good to be cramped up in here so long.”

A light laugh escaped his lips as he stood up. “I might take you up on that and come over for a cup of tea, then. And thanks for the dinner, by the way. I’ll have to repay you for that one day.”

Byleth shook her head. “You don’t have to do that,” she replied. Claude, in response, shot her a wink.

“In that case, why don’t you let me assist you with finding this secret admirer of yours, huh? I have to say, I am curious to see who’s trying to court you, my friend. After all, it's not like we have a lot in terms of entertainment here. Plus, it's not every day someone tries to court the famed Ashen Demon.”

“Maybe,” she replied with a tilt of her head, then she stopped him before he could say anything else. “Good night, Claude.”

“Night, Teach,” Claude said with another wink. “I’ll see you later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here comes the denial
> 
> In other news, who else here has played cindered shadows? I just finished the sideline and it... interesting, to say the least! (Also from what I’ve seen, Claude and Yuri have no supports with each other and that is a crime. They both seem like they’d be great, sneaky, chaos-enabling friends)


	4. Secrets Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth's latest gift arrives, and during tea time with Linhardt, he lets it slip that he knows who got it for. So, with that information, Byleth goes to confront him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm scared as hell to want you. But here I am, wanting you anyway."
> 
> Featuring Sothis, who briefly makes a return from the void to yell at Byleth about her true feelings, and a very-much-in-love but also somewhat in denial of his own feelings Claude

💌💌💌  
 ** _✿ Garland Moon, 6/13, 1185 ✿_**

Over the course of the next month, Byleth received two more gifts. One of them was a rather nice landscape painting, and the other was a necklace. Byleth would laugh at that if she wasn’t flattered by the gesture. Still, she had no luck in finding out who it was. The note hadn’t done anything for her either, for no one took the gifts.

Byleth tried her damndest to find them, but there wasn’t much to go on. She did check the handwriting of the letter with that of her former students; for better or for worse, they only matched two people: Claude and Ignatz. She tried to ignore that little hunch in the back of her mind. Then, on her birthday, she received two different gifts. One of them was from Claude and the rest of the Deer, including a nice, hand-written letter. The other was another gift from her secret admirer, and the biggest gift she’d gotten yet. A painting: of her.

It didn’t take long to figure out who did it. Byleth recognized the style of the drawing and the beautifully blended mixture of paints. Plus, the name scrawled in the bottom left-hand corner was a big hint, too: Ignatz. At first, Byleth didn’t know what to think about Ignatz being her secret admirer, but then she read the letter.

 _A beautiful drawing of you to match your beauty (courtesy of Ignatz). Happy Birthday, Byleth_.

For a moment, Byleth stared at the drawing, quite unsure of what to do with it. Should she hang it up? Leave it in the box? The dagger, chocolates, necklace... those were one thing. But a painting - drawn by one of her students- was a lot different. After a few minutes of debate, Byleth finally reasoned it would be only fair to put it up. Plus, when she invited someone over for tea time, she’d be able to judge their reaction and see if they were the ones who gave it to her. Read others while not being read - it was a unique skill she had, shared with Claude and Claude only.

As it turned out, hanging the painting in her room was one of the best decisions she ever made.

It had started when she invited Linhardt to her room for tea time. She had been getting the tea ready when the napper made an off-handed comment to her: “So, he finally finished it, didn’t he?”

Byleth, not realizing what he was talking about, continued to pour the tea. When she looked to Linhardt, however, she saw him staring up at the painting. She paused, repeating the words he said in her head, not fully grasping what he had just said to her.

“He who finished what, now?” She asked him, setting the tray down. Linhardt turned to face her and pointed up at the painting.

“Ignatz finally finished the painting of you he was commissioned to do,” Linhardt replied simply. It took Byleth another moment to grasp the third to last word. _Commissioned._ Meaning someone paid him to do that.

“Someone commissioned Ignatz to do that painting of me?” Byleth asked him, walking over and looking up at the painting. Linhardt gave a lazy nod. “Who?”

“Why, Claude did.," Linhardt replied with a slight frown but otherwise completely tired expression. "I thought you knew.”

Byleth was suddenly thankful for the constant neutral expression that had earned her the nickname The Ashen Demon. Meanwhile, the part of Byleth’s brain that had had that annoying hunch started to celebrate it.

“I did not,” she replied simply, trying to stamp down the burst of... what? she felt in her chest.

Linhardt hummed, yawning. “Now that I mention it, I do recall our Master Tactician asking Ignatz to not tell you about him and the drawing. Oh well.”

Hilda’s words echoed in Byleth’s mind. _“Oh, what would be the fun of you finding out if I tell you?”_

It occurred to her, then that, knowing how close Hilda and Claude were, he probably told Hilda about... this. This whole... secret admirer thing. Had he really been the one sending all these gifts to her? And if so, why?

The flowers, the daggers, the chocolates, the paintings...

 _Not to be a Sylvain, but even I can admit you’re beautiful... Have you ever been in a romantic relationship, Teach?... I’d like to share my dream with someone, yeah._ All the other questions he had asked her about relationships and what she was doing after the war and his dream...

_Oh._

A part of Byleth cursed herself for not seeing it earlier, for ignoring the hunch in the back of her head for all this time, the same hunch she'd followed during battle, something that usually got her out of trouble more than it got her into it. Claude loved her, and she hadn’t noticed a damn thing. What would Sothis think about that, if the Goddess were there right now?

“Professor? Did you hear me?”

Byleth snapped herself out of her thoughts to see Linhardt looking at her from the table where he was now sitting at, his cup of tea in one hand, with an expression of slight concern. Shaking herself, Byleth nodded.

“Sorry,” she replied, going back and taking a seat. “I was just thinking of how to thank Claude for my gift.” _And all the other ones, too,_ she added silently. _Somehow._

“You know, speaking of Claude, did you ever hear him talk about getting me other presents, like chocolates or necklaces?”

Linhardt frowned as he took a slow, careful sip of his tea. Then he nodded and set the cup down.

“Perhaps, yes. I once overheard him asking Lorenz about flower language, and then saw him in the library soon after with a book about plants. Then I saw him heading towards the greenhouse, not too long before Grondor.”

So he _had_ gotten her the flowers, too. Most likely everything else, then, as well. It was only after Linhardt left did Byleth allow herself to slip into that spiral the napper had pulled her out of earlier before she could start the descent downwards.

Claude loved her.

Or, at least, she thought he did. But still, the mercenary part of Byleth couldn’t help but be suspicious. Perhaps this was all some sort of elaborate prank, knowing him. Or maybe it was true, and he just didn’t know how to say it, hence the cards and secrecy. After all, Claude was not known for being forthcoming with anyone about himself. It would make sense if he wasn’t forthcoming to himself about his feelings.

Plus, he had given her just enough of a glimpse into his past for Byleth to know he had trust issues, to some extent, having to deal with assassination attempts from a young age, sometimes by his _family_. It would be only natural that someone who never knew if someone was going to stab him in the back - Byleth tried not to think about her father, about Kronya - wasn't as... forthcoming, for lack of a better word, with his feelings, afraid of opening his heart to someone who could very well break it if turned down. 

Now she knew that he was the one sending the gifts to her. But would it be better to wait, and see if Claude would ever say anything? Or would Byleth risk him not taking that chance of telling her, and then go back to his dream without saying a damn word to her? Byleth wanted to know if this really was true, if this was some giant, elaborate prank or scheme he was using to get a reaction out of her, or if his feelings were actually true?

(Byleth knew they might be, but it was always a gamble, knowing him)

No, she needed to catch him in the act. But would it be cruel to force him to show his hand before he was ready, or was it the push that he could very well might need? And if she were to try and confront him, how would Byleth go about it? From what Byleth could gather, he’d given her this stuff when she was out of her room, usually when no one was around the dorms to see him. It did give her an idea for a plan, one forming in the back of her mind.

Of course, before she could delve any further into this mess, she had to figure out her own feelings towards him. Claude was a friend, for sure. And, if Byleth was right, he clearly thought of her as more. But she did she feel the same about him? That Byleth didn’t quite know. She enjoyed spending time with him, and she always loved the twinkle of his eyes, that smirk of his when he got himself into more mischief, when it turned into a smile that reached his eyes.

And when he had called her beautiful, how genuine it sounded... it was like music to her ears. Plus, whenever he seemed to get a little too close during meetings or when they were talking had always set something off Byleth, wanting to push him away and yet stay there and stare into his eyes-

 _Oh, for Gods sake, Byleth, you like him back!_ Mind-Sothis called out to her from her head. _What are you waiting for already? Tell him! At this rate, the schemer will never tell you about his feelings for you if you continue to let him leave these mysterious gifts! He has to know that you might find him out eventually._

Byleth wasn’t quite sure if that was some part of her brain that told her that or if the part of her that was fused with Sothis telling her that. But the rational part of her brain couldn’t help but agree. Maybe she had liked him for Goddess-knew how long but stayed in denial because she didn’t know if Claude felt the same. Sighing, Byleth’s eyes darted to the painting, and she pulled it down. Should she feel flattered at this drawing of her? It certainly wasn’t like any other gifts she’d ever gotten, but she had to admit, Ignatz was a good drawer. She would have to thank him once she confronted Claude.

And she knew exactly how to do that.

Which was why, a week later, Byleth climbed her way over the wall surrounding Garreg Mach, courtesy of Ingrid and her Pegasi. Aside from Ingrid and Linhardt, who lay across the little alcove between her room and the training grounds and would signal her if he saw Claude coming, she told everyone that she had gone out to the market, and that she might be gone the entire day.

If Byleth was right, it would only be a matter of time before he dropped off his next gift for her.

💌💌💌

The package felt heavy in Claude’s hands.

He’d been doing this for almost three months, now, writing cards and getting gifts for Byleth, leaving them on her doorstep when she wasn’t there, too scared and full of self-doubt to give it to her in person. But he wanted to do something nice for her, for all she’d done for the Deer - for him.

From what he’d gathered so far, she seemed to like off of the gifts he’d gotten her, even the necklace, wearing it when she wasn’t training. The painting, he admitted, was a bit of a risk. One of them was trying to get Ignatz to keep his not-so-little little crush on Byleth secret while he did the painting of her. Luckily for him, the younger boy seemed flattered by the request and promised to keep his secret, although a sly smile had started to cross his face whenever he saw Claude and Byleth together. The other was actually seeing if she liked the painting in the first place.

But he hadn’t heard any complaints when he visited her for work a few days ago, although she seemed to be studying her more than she usually did. But he played it off well, at least he thought he did. Now, she was supposed to be in town the entire day, doing shopping for the army, giving Claude plenty of time to drop the next gift off. He knew that he should just stop being so damn scared of his feelings and tell her, instead of leaving this cryptic trail of messages.

But each time he tried to talk to her - hell, each time he found himself in the same room with her - he found it hard to say the words. What they had already was… nice. Steady. He didn’t want to mess that up, didn’t want to risk getting his heart broken by telling her. Plus, they were in a war, too, so it wasn’t like romance was one of his top priorities.

And for someone like Byleth, who - as far as Claude could tell - had only loved one, maybe two people, what would she say? How would she react? She had already told him that, if she found out who this not-so-secret secret admirer was, she didn’t know what she’d do or say, that she’d never been in a serious relationship, that it was hard to tell the difference between friendship and love.

That was the other reason Claude hadn’t told her yet. Maybe he would, once they recaptured Enbarr, defeated Edelgard, and win this war. Just two weeks, and he could tell her. For now, he would settle for another mysterious gift on her doorstep, a hand-crafted scimitar from Almyra that Nardel had brought to him earlier that month, after Merceus, just bare seconds before his old weapons instructor left to go back to Almyra.

(He tried not to be too sad about that, but the homesickness was really starting to hit him after nearly dying when those Javelins of Light fell earlier. Looking at the quality craftsmanship of the blade - Maril must still be the blacksmith at the palace - didn't help.)

Byleth had liked the dagger, and although she didn’t outrightly say it, she did appreciate the finer details in stuff, especially when it came from weapons. Sure, maybe a weapon from Almyra would hit a little too close to home - after all, everyone at the monastery knew he had Almyran connections, including Byleth. The only other person from Almyra was Cyril, but the boy hadn't any direct contact with his home country in a while) But hopefully, Byleth wouldn’t figure it out before the war ended.

Claude left to her room during lunch, knowing that mostly everyone would be in the dining hall getting food, meaning less people were likely to see him. It would be a little harder to hide this gift, considering how long and big the scimitar was, but Byleth would probably be back by evening, and he hadn’t gotten up early enough to set it at her doorstep in the wee hours of the morning.

Luckily, he was right, and the second floor of the dorms was empty as he walked, trying and failing to hide the sword behind his back in case anyone did come along. The first floor would be a little bit harder - it was right by the greenhouse, fishing pond, and went all the way up to the training grounds, where Byleth's room was at, past the Officer’s Academy and dining hall. There was a much higher chance that someone would see him there.

But the lunch rush had gotten the dorms clear, and the greenhouse doors were usually closed. So, quickly, Claude made his way to Byleth’s room, the sword still heavy in his hands. He was sure that at least a few people had seen the gifts he set out on her doorstep, but as long as no one traced it back to him…

Claude almost missed Linhardt’s sleeping figure - his attire blended in with the brush around him - but when he looked again, he appeared to be asleep. So Claude let out a silent breath of relief, though a part of him wondered what the hell he was doing there. Knowing him, he had just collapsed on the ground and fell asleep. Like him, the mage had an affinity for staying up too late at night in the library reading books about Crests and Relics. Claude usually saw him once a week up there, in the corner of the library, surrounded by books. Once, as students, they'd even had an impromptu tea party, with Claude bringing some cookies Annette and Mercedes had given him.

Once he got to Byleth's doorstep, Claude rapped the door, softly, with his knuckles, to check and make sure Byleth wasn’t in there. He couldn’t be too careful, after all. But there was no answer, no noise from inside that signified she was there, awake, and had heard him. So, setting the card on the doorstep, Claude took the package with the sword and rested it on the door. It was a long one, wrapped with silver and gold.

He didn’t even notice someone was approaching until he turned around and saw Byleth standing behind him.

Claude startled and froze, a mixture of dread and relief washing over him as he took a step back, only able to keep his eyes on her for a moment, just long enough to see the barest flick of a smile crossing her face, probably at her managing to surprise him. She was one of the quietest people Claude knew, for sure, but… this was ridiculous.

“Figured it was you,” Byleth said in a quiet voice, her head tilted and voice impossible to discern. Another glance revealed her face as blank as ever, and even with her body language, it was impossible to tell what she was thinking. The only thing on Claude’s mind, conversely, was that he’d just been caught red-handed, and he wasn't quite sure what it was that trickled down his spine at that thought.

“You got me, huh?” He asked with a nervous chuckle, unable to say much of anything else. As of late, he found it increasingly impossible to say the words he wanted to say in front of her. “I thought you were supposed to be in town.”

Another rare but brief smile crossed her face, and it clicked. Claude sucked in a breath and let it out.

“You played me,” he muttered, and despite himself, he felt a lopsided grin appear on his face. Apparently, he must’ve been a bad influence on her, getting Byleth to create her own scheme to catch him, though Claude did have to hand it to her. “Well played.”

“You should’ve known I was going to figure it out eventually.” There was no accusation in her voice, and Claude wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. He squirmed under his gaze, and he ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. A nervous habit, one he'd picked up a while back. “Though not grabbing the gifts and using a different had to write the letters was a nice touch, I’ll admit.”

Claude felt his cheeks redden, and _Gods_ did he want to glance away to keep some of his dignity intact, but those sea-green eyes of hers refused to let him do so. Byleth really _was_ beautiful.

Balling his hand into a fist, he glanced to the side, where Linhardt still was napping, before looking back to Byleth. “Can we… can we talk about this inside?”

Blissfully, Byleth nodded, stepping past him and grabbing her eye. Her eyes darted to the package, before she unlocked the door. Trying to maintain what little dignity he had left, Claude grabbed the package and letter, tucking the former under his arm. It felt impossibly heavy now, far heavier than any ax he'd ever wielded before. A small part of him, the part scared to hear what she would say or do, told Claude to run, while she wasn’t looking. But he probably wouldn’t get very far before Byleth caught up with him and drag him to her room, and even if he did get away, it wasn’t like Claude could avoid her forever. Not unless he abandoned his position and fled to Almyra, destroying any chance of achieving his dream.

Claude watched her as she stepped inside, tried to discern her body language to see how she was feeling. She didn’t seem angry; no shifting from side to side or resting her hand on her sword or balling her hands into fists. In fact, she looked rather calm as she went and grabbed her tray of tea, like it was a tea time instead of a long-overdue confession. Taking a seat at the table, Claude tried to still his beating heart, pounding so loud and so fast he wondered if Byleth could hear it. Tea would be good, although he’d be lying if he said a pitcher of ale sounded better. Maybe he wouldn’t be so nervous about telling her, then.

It was silent and impossibly tense as Byleth made the tea, Claude unable to say anything and Byleth not saying anything. More than once did he glance at the door and pondered if he would be fast enough to make it there. After the fourth time, though, Byleth set the tray down and took a seat next to him, blocking his pathway to the door.

“Did you really hold onto that dagger for five years?” She asked him, a slight hint of awe to her voice, and Claude resisted the urge to sigh. It almost felt like an interrogation, and he hated that more than he cared to admit.

“Yeah,” he said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, before he let out a sigh. “It was just supposed to be a thank-you gift for all that you’d done for the Deer, but then the assault had come and I had never... I never got the chance to give it to you.”

A slight frown crossed her face, lips tugging downward as she looked at him. “Why did you wait to give to me after I woke up?”

Claude gulped. “I was planning too, Teach, but... I just... I couldn’t quite find the courage to do so.” There was something else he wanted to say, but couldn’t find the courage to say it. That, and he was already at a loss for words. Byleth just seemed to have that sort of effect on people, even Lorenz and Ferdninad, two of the most chatty people Claude had ever known. That included Nader and his own father.

But with the way Byleth was looking at him made Claude assume she already knew the reason. Maybe Byleth would pick up what he was so damn afraid of laying down. Nervously, he took a sip of his tea, trying to find the backbone that his mom had to say the damn words he’d wanted to say for so long.

Yeah, he really should’ve gone for the ale.

“What about the rest of the gifts?” She asked. “And the letters?”

Claude shrugged. “My way of saying thanks,” he replied, wrapping his hands around his cup. Then, averting his gaze, he added, “And try to... to build up my confidence, m-maybe.” Not like that was helping him now. Byleth looked like she wanted to say something, but didn’t. Instead, she took a sip of her drink, and Claude could see the gears in her head turning. God, he would give up all the money he had to know what she was thinking. Just because he could read her body language and facial expressions to discern what she was feeling, it wasn't as if he knew the exact thoughts that ran through her head. Claude doubted he ever would.

There were so many things Claude wanted to say to her. He knew he could; it was just the two of them in there, like it always had been. He could tell her his feelings, his fears, his hopes, why he did it. But the words which he so usually wielded as weapons wouldn’t come.

When Byleth spoke, her words were silent, quiet, and oh so soft.

“How long have you known?”

He didn’t need to ask her what she meant by that. She had already figured that out a month ago, when she told him that she had the feeling that the person who was sending that stuff actually had a valid reason for doing it (which he did). That she didn't know how she should or would feel about it if she found out. That love was still a hard concept for her to grasp, different than friendship. Conversely, Claude knew he had loved her for a long, long time, and it had hurt until they day reunited at the Goddess tower after Byleth woke up from her slumber, like a phoenix rising from the ashes or a hero from one of the stories of old Almyran warriors and kings Claude's father had told him about as a child.

Sucking in a breath, Claude forced himself to look at her.

“A while,” he admitted. At Byleth’s firmer gaze, he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling heat creeping up it and spreading out into his cheeks, mouth going dry. “About... about four years ago. That’s part of the reason that I... that I never believed you died.”

“Why anonymous letters?”

Taking another sip of his tea to get rid of the dry taste in his mouth, Claude sucked in a breath. _Come on, mouth, don’t fail me now._

“You know me, Byleth,” he said quietly, closing his eyes. “I’ve never been good when it comes to trusting others and opening my heart up to people. Too many enemies and not enough friends and other people I can - _could_ \- trust. For better or worse, that... that includes myself. And I just...”

Claude stood up and started pacing, trying to find the words he wanted to say. But how could he say it if he didn’t even know if Byleth felt the same? And if she didn’t feel the same, what would they do? What would _he_ do? Would they just go back to being friends? Would he find someone else, someone who liked him for him, someone who would put up with a son-of-a-bastard like him, someone else he could share his dream with? Or would he spend the rest of his life in love with a woman who would never feel the same about him?

As Claude started to spiral, wearing a hole into the dusty and faded gray carpet in Byleth's room, a hand grab the sleeve of his shirt, and he stopped. Gulping, he looked at Byleth, who was looking up at him with a mixture of worry and sadness. It always surprised Claude how he had to look down to meet her gaze; even though he hadn't grown an inch in the past five years, he was still taller than her, despite the commanding presence she gave off.

“Breathe, Claude,” Byleth instructed, voice calm and even but firm, unlike the shaking he felt in his hands. Claude swallowed the lump in his throat, sucked in a deep breath. She was holding his hands, and they were warm against his - it was one of the few days he'd chosen to not wear gloves, for better or worse. Without the gloves, he could feel the callouses on her hands - warrior's hands, like Nader and Judith's and his mother and father - a stark contrast to the pale, soft look of her face. 

“Byleth, I...” Claude started, but the words died on his tongue when he looked at her. Gods, she was _beautiful_ , the way the sunlight hit her hair, the curve of her blush-pink lips, the sea-green eyes that seemed to hold the secrets to the entire world, the way they sparkled when he did something funny or slightly irritating but amusing all the same, like when he gave stomach poison to Lorenz or when he had shared his rations with her after she had awoken. 

So, with words failing him, he did what he usually does: actions. After all, actions speak louder than words, right? So, stamping down the fear in his heart, he slipped his fingers under Byleth’s chin, lifted her head up, and kissed her. Claude could only hope Byleth knew what he was trying to say with that gesture after words had failed him.

Her lips were warm and soft on his, slightly chapped, and they tasted like the Almyran Pine tea on the table. Byleth tensed up just slightly, probably startled by the sudden kiss. Then she relaxed and even seemed to lean into the kiss. Or maybe it was just his imagination. But either way, he pulled back, dropping his hand to his side, his cheeks hot as the Almyran sun. The tip of Byleth’s ears were red, too, and Claude almost chuckled at how cute that was. He would've if he wasn't so damn nervous.

“I love you, Byleth.” The words came out as a whisper, for it took all the strength in him to just say it. “I love you, with everything I am.”

The world seemed to freeze, except for the two of them, and Claude hated it. He had never been so open, so vulnerable, with someone, and all the doubts and fears that had been piling up since her return started to race through his head. All the walls he’d built up since he was a kid, and almost all of them had been torn down with that one kiss. Claude had bared his heart to Byleth, and it would only take a few words to see if she would tear it to shreds or not.

He hated that, how _open_ and _vulnerable_ and _exposed_ he was. But if there was anyone he could trust to be this exposed and vulnerable in front of and who wouldn't give him slack for it, it would be Byleth. She had never judged him or looked at him differently or called him names because he was from Almyra, because he was the half-blood son of two different rulers.

In fact, she did the opposite - Byleth had once decked one of the knights who had been calling him (and Cyril) names in the town and had seemed genuinely interested in Almyran culture, remarking that she'd want to go to the ocean one day. (But that she'd be dreading the heat). The only reason she had distrusted him in the first place wasn't because he was from Almyra, but because he had, frankly, given her every reason to. But despite that, she still trusted him, confided in him, and he'd (almost) always been the first person Byleth went to about different things. That was probably one of the reasons that Claude loved her so.

In reality, the stillness and silence between the two were probably no more than five seconds, but it felt like another five years.

“Claude,” she started quietly, and Claude gulped, terrified to hear her answer. But apparently, Byleth must’ve been at a loss for words as much as he was, for she grabbed his cavarat and pulled him down into another kiss.

Claude froze, his brain short-circuiting, and he could see Byleth’s cheeks were as red as roses. Then, soft realization flooded over him.

She was _kissing_ him.

Just like that, all the worries and fears and doubts that had been floating in his mind seemed to melt away. Something warm spread out in Claude's chest, and one of his hands found its way to the back of her neck, pulling her head up closer to his so he could deepen the kiss. The other wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Byleth’s hands found him, too, one landing on his shoulder and the other snaking around his own neck, pulling him down. They were warm against his skin, and that, combined with the curve and softness of her lips, was enough to send tingles down his spine. When was the last time he had touched someone, much less kissed someone?

As he deepened the kiss, determined to taste every inch of her, Byleth bit his lip, and a moan escaped the back of his throat.

“By,” he breathed, tangling his hands in her hair. Gods, how many times had he dreamed of kissing her? Five years, five long years he’d been waiting for her, but it was worth the wait. But there she was, soft and warm under his hands. He smiled and pulled her closer to him, as close as he could, want burning in his veins and heart hammering in his chest, five years worth of yearning pouring into the kiss.

But he realized that wasn't close enough, so he pushed her back until she hit the wall, a startled gasp escaping her lips at that. He smiled - mostly at himself - for being the reason such a noise came from the famed Ashen Demon. He dug his hand into her hips to keep her in place while his tounge explored her mouth. After a pause, though, she pressed a gentle hand to his cheek, and his skin tingled at the touch.

"Claude," she said against him, voice quiet and breathless, dripping with honey, and she was looking up at him with eyes half-lidded yet filled with the same desire he felt running in his veins right now. 

"Why'd you stop?" he asked, brushing his lips against Byleth's, wanting to indulge in her more. He had waited five long years for her more, and he knew he wouldn't be content or satisfied with just one kiss. If this was about propriety or something like that, screw it. Claude loved her, and he didn't care that he was the Duke of the Leichester Alliance and the prince of Almyra, while she was just a common mercenary and that normally it would've been frowned upon or even destroyed his reputation, he just wanted her.

"Can you promise me one thing?" Byleth asked him, her fingers tracing a faded scar under his eye from when one of the servants tried to stab him with a knife. Not that she knew that.

"Hmm?" 

"Can you promise me that, when we go face Edelgard in a few weeks, that you won't die on me?" There was a hint of fear hidden in her voice, almost invisible, but there. 

"I can't promise that, By," Claude said, knowing that fate had a cruel way of playing tricks on people: for all he knew, he could live to be eighty or drop dead tomorrow. "But," he continued, pressing a small kiss to the corner of her lips. "-I can promise you that I'll sure as hell try to not die, if it means I get to kiss you again."

"Laying your schemes out in front of me, von Reigan?" She asked, a mirth of laughter in her voice, and it made Claude's heart flutter. "We're kissing right now. Well, we were."

"I'd let you tear down every wall and I have and bare my secrets to the world if it means I get to kiss you again, my friend," Claude admitted, brushing his lips against hers and staring at her through half-lidded eyes. He knew how dangerous it was, but he didn't care. "I love you, and I always will."

Byleth was silent for a few seconds, before she closed her eyes, one gentle and calloused hand flitting down to his chest and making Claude's breath hitch. When she spoke, her voice was delicate and soft, yet assured. "You know I'd never do that you."

"I know," he said with a soft chuckle, pressing his lips to hers once more, before taking a chance and slipping one hand under her shirt, trailing his hand up and down her back, and Byleth's breath hitched, back arching like a cat. But she didn't complain or push him away, so he started to rub circles into her back, wanting more.

"You know, in Almyra, they have a saying," Claude said after a few seconds, pulling away from her peach-pink lips for just a moment. "The translation is a little rough, but it essentially says the moment soulmates - or the Almyran equivalent of that, partners, fighting side by side - lock eyes, they're bonded together for life, fighting with one another through every battle until the day one of them dies. Or the wife has a baby, but that's only temporary."

"Sounds a little like us," Byleth mused as Claude ran a finger over an old scar in her back, near her hip. 

"Kinda does, doesn't it?" Claude replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "That's why I promise to fight with you, until a new dawn comes for both Fodlan and Almyra."

_And then I can give you the ring that's been in my drawer since the day you awoke._

The smile he felt on Byleth's lips was probably one of the greatest gifts she could give him. "I'll fight with you too, Claude."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP the abandoned sword left on the table in Byleth's room
> 
> Happy Valentine's day!


End file.
